The moon shone bright on the Allwyn Keep; in the hall, a heavy tread, the scrabbling of claws on the wide plank floor. The tang of fresh blood that bloomed suddenly in the night air.
Elyria allowed herself a shudder, then forced her attention back to the manuscript she and her childhood teacher, Collen, studied by lamp light. He knew from long ago how much she hated the nights of the full moon, and often joined her vigil at those times, bringing books and herbs for tea, and best of all, his company.
Elyria was the Keeper of the Were, but these nights reminded her she had little control over her unholy family. She 'kept' the Were, she thought cynically, in the sense that a serving maid might 'Keep' the castle. Clean up the messes, sweep aside the debris, make sure the etiquette of horror was observed. See to it that the needs of the wolfen were met; that their encroachments on the humans in their territories were kept to a minimum; that the Noble Accord was honored.
She was quite certain Virginia Woolf and Jane Austen had endured no such trials, and she often wondered cynically whether, had she been born in a different time, she would have needed to work such a god-awful job to support herself until she was published.
Opening: debhoag.....Continuation: freddie